Everlong
by Shipperholic
Summary: XA. They meet again in modern times. Everything seems different, but some things never change.
1. Teardrop

Notes: I do not own the TV series that is Xena: Warrior Princess and do not intend to violate or offend Renaissance, Studios USA and others by writing this story. This ficlet is only for fun!

* * *

_Don't waste your time on me  
You're already the voice inside my head  
I miss you... I miss you  
Blink 182, I Miss You_

Catherine had asked, with her trendy trench coat on, her Bottega bag hanging on her shoulder, clearly ready to leave, but babbling on, as if the day didn't seem long enough. I shrugged it off, and she left my office. That was that. But the question made me think. Did I believe in fate? And the word lingered in my mind. Fate was bullshit. For one thing, the Fates were long gone now. It was just a word, like any other. But…if I believed fate was on my side, she probably would have been here, with me. Fate wouldn't take so damn long to send her back among the living, and destiny would have her bumping into me on the streets, have her in the same city as me, at least in the same country. But maybe that would make me a terribly lucky guy, and maybe this was a joke played by the mighty Fates to live out her 'one in a billion' theory that stayed lodged in my mind, like a bullet.

And as I got into my car, my mind stumbled into some random or related theme, in which I obviously knew was a waste of time, but couldn't help myself. Humans, they often say there's too little time for thinking, but I've had thousands and thousands of years to spare. Another few minutes couldn't hurt.

Clearly, destiny and fate both have turned their non existent backs on me, because she died. Perhaps as a god of war, I should have been accustomed to that part of life, if anything else. But I couldn't let it go; and eventually, time tried to erase it, but instead left a smudgy permanent mess. To believe, you have to accept as real. I couldn't believe her death. I really believed we were meant to be together. Of course, everyone else, including her, regarded this as a ploy to get her back again so I could have the perfect warrior to lead on my supposed cause—which would have been nice—to conquer what we knew as the whole world then. Maybe, as old as I was back then, I was still immature. Young enough to think she was foolish to take the 'good path', juvenile enough to try and try again, knowing it possibly couldn't work. Instead, I fell deeper into her, and I couldn't get out, but I liked it that way. Maybe, if I was wise and knew better, I would have let it go, and save myself the grief of losing her in the end. Not that it matters now.

Dying, she was still beautiful and I was in awe, because, I didn't believe it was happening. The world closed on her crystal blue eyes that had me trapped, but couldn't release me. Not even now.

In an effort to get the images out of my head, I light a cigarette, accelerate out of the underground parking lot, and New York greets me.

I arrive at my building, and the doorman greets me like he does everyday. Repetition greets me when I wake up. Everything is expected. What I don't expect is Xena to show up. Stepping in the spotless and empty elevator, I ascend, watching the sparkling city grow smaller, and at the same time, bigger.

It's fucked up, because I miss her, and miss her more. If I could go back in time (like the wishes of so many people), I know I would be happy to just watch her. I know I took her for granted. Feeling a smirk crawl on face, I wonder. Would she laugh at me, like I do, seeing how pathetic and low I've become? I let myself become so soft, succumb to the longing for her, and let myself feel the ache in my heart. I became a little bit human. But I refuse to accept this fully.

I unlock the door, and the dark engulfs me into my apartment, or rather, a penthouse. I slump into the black sofa, and gaze out the balcony. It's funny how money goes around these days, and I probably should thank my father for his who-knows-where-it-comes-from-funding. It's also funny how we, the once powerful Olympians have managed to survive on like cockroaches, watching civilizations rise and fall with era after era. I used to not care, not do anything. But wars still raged on, as if it were a necessity for the people. I would say that they've made it a necessity. Wars are investments for some people.

I think I lied. There have been Xenas before. At least, there were some that looked like her. There was only one that I was definite about. But like I said, fate was bullshitting me and the right one didn't last long…I guess those were the best offers the world could make. Just look-alike dolls, haunting me with the hollow stares, and when I encountered the only right one—those piercing eyes—they had to snatch her away. I remember every one of them. The slave girl in India, the daughter of a Mayan tribe leader, the rich comptesse in Hungary… But it doesn't matter. Memories are temporary relief;a band-aid. But I want the cure. Xena.

I light another cigarette, and as I inhale the disease, I close my eyes. I think I can see her blue eyes again. And I drown.

* * *

A/N: I uploaded this story a few days ago, but I wanted to post it under a different penname and change the profile. I was a moron and dind't know how to. So I deleted the story and made a new ID :) So stupid of me. And now here I am again posting tihs yet again.  
Big thank yous to the two people (**Sea Fire**,** Angelares**) who left me reviews and I am so sorry that I had to delete the story.  
I actually don't know where I'm gonna go with this story; which is pretty dumb. I have a vague idea, which is : Xena and Ares meet again and they ensue in hot lurve! ...I'm going to try to write something decent. And something with a plot.


	2. Everything In Its Right Place

_I wanna have the same last dream again,  
__The one where I wake up and I'm alive  
_The Adventure, Angels and Airwaves

Her head hurt. She opened her eyes, but couldn't see anything. Where was she? In another dream? Nothing was real anymore; she realized a long time ago. She closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, the lights were so bright and hard that she had to close them. She felt as if she was receiving attacks from her nerves. Was that a ringing in her ear? Slowly, the lights faded.

It was hazy, and she was still wearing what she remembered she wore last; plain white garb that bared her back. She couldn't care. She saw a woman, and when her eyes adjusted, she could see it was herself in strange black armor. She also saw her whole being shaking, but not from being cold. Her hair was a feisty mess, and she could see that she had cried. Breathing hard and unevenly, she was extending her shaking arm slowly to touch something; a lifeless face on the table. Who was it? What was this dream? It was as if she was watching a play in the middle of the stage, amongst the actors. She felt invisible. Perhaps she was.

"Don't you dare touch him. You get out." Someone, a woman was saying. It was too loud. She was still in a stage where her senses threatened to overload. She could not see her. Why was everything so unclear?

"If it wasn't for you, my son would still be alive." The words, although she couldn't comprehend the situation, were piercing the damp air, and she saw herself turn away, her downcast eyes so tired and sad, and her outreached arm cautiously retreating.

_Get out…Get out…Get out_

_She felt cold._

Suddenly, her vision was becoming hazy again, and while she squinted her eyes, she could feel her surroundings change. Before her eyes could open, she picked up a horrible scent and had to cover her nose. The despicable smell shot up through her anyways, and she thought she would gag. She repressed the urge.

She was standing right beside herself, who was dressed again in leather armor, and staring blankly into the stretching fields that were so green. But around them, it was red, soaked with blood. She could imagine the dark crimson blood seeping into the grass, into the earth. She thought she could see dead bodies, faces pale white; not human anymore. Her senses so out of control, she thought she could hear the maggots at work already. She turned her eyes away from the ground, and looked at herself.

Under the cloudless sky, she saw the turbulent blue eyes, and watched her breathe in deeply.

She thought her ears would explode, when she let out an anguished scream. Instead, she felt something drop from her own eyes.

_She felt pain. _

Bea carefully observed, like she did any other day. But today was like no other day. Something happened. And so she kept watching, in hopes that she might wake up. Not today though. Why was she crying? Perhaps she had a dream. Possibly a bid dream, but Bea had never been so happy to see someone shed a tear. Smiling faintly, she gave her friend a squeeze in the hand—albeit not so hard, minding the syringe in her arm—and rose from the chair. It hurt her to watch her so motionless, connected to so many tubes every single day with the same monotonous beep filling the room to remind her that she was still breathing, still there. Nevertheless, it reminded Bea of ancient memories when her friend was actually dead. Of course, she always came back to her, cracking a silly joke afterwards. She was certain that she would be back soon. Maybe tomorrow. Right now, it was time to go home, because her husband was waiting.

"I'll visit you tomorrow Xena. Good night."

,

She was laughing then, and the blonde haired girl was laughing too. They were riding horses through a vague trail in a forest, and it was sunny. She watched them converse, and she just felt comfortable. Something about a water monster. Her outstretched senses were back to normal in this…dream, she guessed, and she felt like she was floating as she followed herself and the pixie haired companion. She wished this particular dream would last a bit longer than the others.

But alas, as if someone was chasing her mind and thoughts, she could feel her surroundings change. She was standing in a large, darkened room, where soft glows were illuminating from nowhere, and she spotted herself. She watched herself sleeping, on a huge poster bed, complete with intricate and elaborate details carved on cherry wood everywhere. She was nestled on a luxurious looking black sheet, and she could also tell that she wasn't wearing anything underneath the black covers. Equally black was her hair tousled on the many pillows. The room felt so ancient to her, but a strange sense of nostalgia overcame her.

Standing awkwardly at the foot of the bed, she watched herself yet again. She thought she looked younger.

Then, she felt something like never before; like something inside of her was trying to reach all the places in her body, such an eerie sensation, but not frightening.

Then she saw him, a tall man dressed in a robe—was everything black in this room?—who happened to enter the room out of nowhere, like the gentle lights. He had a very handsome face, the kind girls would fall for instantly, and the kind that artists would want to paint. His hair was messy but still presentable, and he had a neatly trimmed beard that went well with the lines of his face. Tall, dark, and mysterious.

When he took off his robe to get in the bed, she found she couldn't take her eyes off. Completely naked like herself in the bed, he had such a chiselled body; toned everywhere to perfection. It took a bit of an effort to remain silent as she examined his body, and she felt herself blush. He was…well hung. And gorgeous. Eyes wide, she watched him snuggle next to herself, and make comfortable adjustments so she could sleep again.

His arm snaked under her head so that she could rest on it, and he slightly rolled her to her side so he could see her sleepy face. She could see that she was awake; eyes slightly open, she let out a soft groan and then smiled sheepishly at the man as she draped her arm over his stomach. She pulled closer to him, her head resting on his upper arm, and then closed her eyes again.

She found herself leaning against one of the posts of the bed, just watching. They just slept, but she just couldn't tear her eyes apart from the couple. It must have been a few hours now. So peaceful, she couldn't imagine herself to be the same person crying out on the battlefield, splattered in blood. And who was this man?

"I love you Xena." A lover.

Just when she thought they were in deep sleep, she heard the man's voice for the first time; deep but soft. She saw him, eyes still closed, kiss her head, and open his eyes. He was looking straight at her. Not herself on the bed, beside him, but her in the white gown. Not through her, at her. She froze. Did he see her? How could he see her? She didn't know what to do, and she just stood there, eyes wide for the second time.

_Tell me you love me then._

She felt herself drift again, this time, into nothing.

,

He was rather amused at first, when he found out that he was to sponsor a hospital. The former god of war—almighty and everything—that used to thrive on death, blood, and most importantly, war. He thought he could sometimes hear the powerful battle cries, echoing in his ear, maybe smell the need, and taste the thirst. Nevertheless, his company was to sponsor the hospital, which meant one thing: donate a ridiculous amount of money.

In his ear right now was a middle aged doctor of some kind speaking about the image of the hospital, how they chose to abandon traditional internal designs for the benefit of everyone and on and on and on… It was early in the morning, and he wanted to go back home again. He'd already finished the important things; the transfer, signing some final documents, and shaking the hands of important people.

They passed through the children's wing, which included colorful butterflies hanging from the ceiling and clouds painted brightly on the ceiling. He wasn't quite paying complete attention; he didn't know where they were right now. Walking through a wide hallway, there were a lot of rooms, and he could see through some of them that didn't have the blinds closed down. The rooms varied in design and color, but the people, they were all on beds, with clean white sheets, wearing crisp white robes. Yawning, he wondered if they were all asleep or in a coma, or anaesthetized to oblivion. He wished he could sleep. He liked how it made time go by a lot faster. Skip through.

"Wake up." He quietly told himself.

,

_Thump. Thump._

She felt a pulse. She felt it grow from nothing to something of full force. She knew she still wasn't awake. It shook her, and she calmly wondered in her strange state of mind if this was it. She didn't want to sleep anymore.

,

He was pondering why a hospital such as this would need more sponsorship. It looked impressive enough; the atmosphere was bright and everything was updated with the latest technology. Not the usual depressing scene. But maybe that was because he wasn't dying. The doctors were busy and occupied, picking up boards here and there; and they completed the picture. The sun was shining through the windows now, spilling into the hallways. He wondered what time it was, he'd left everything in his car, including his Rolex.

"…The Director wishes to let you know once again that he is forever grateful to you and your corporation for your generosity." The man in the white robe was saying, still walking.

"No problem." Ares said, and saw that they were nearing a lobby of some sort, as the automatic sliding door opened to the side to let them in. It was circular, and on each side of the main counter were two large doors, one to the 'Clinic' and the other to the 'Recreational Area'. There were chairs and couches in the lobby, and they looked comfortable. Like a bed. He figured there weren't as many people yet because it was early.

"So we're finished then?" Ares asked the guy.

"Yes. Mr. Louverdis, although, the Director wanted to show you more of what we—" The man was interrupted by an enthusiastic tone then, and with an apologetic expression, he took out a little device out of his pocket, glanced at it, and put it back in quickly. It was some sort of pager. Good, he thought; time for him to go home.

"You'll have to come with me Mr. Louverdis." Drat. And the man looked quite happy to prolong his stay here too.

"Where?" He said, following the speed walking doctor through the Intensive Care Unit.

"To save a life." The man offered with a light tone. So he did this type of thing everyday. Probably many others did the exact same thing. How ironic. The God of War was now officially an indirect life-saver. Even to him, it was amusing. Maybe he was giving himself too much credit.

"The Director is already there it seems." Ahead, Ares could see through the glass walls that a few personnel had already gathered in a room; frantic beeping accompanying the frantic nurses. The sliding door to the side, they were huddled around the patient, blocking his view, and chattering some words he couldn't understand. The Director of the hospital wanted to show him a dying person?

"Special case?" He asked the doctor, who was already inside the room.

"Beautiful patient."

,

_"I love you."_

And she saw the gorgeous man again, only for a flash. He looked hurt; she could see it in his chocolate eyes. And she hurt too.

She wanted to grab him as he turned away. She tried to reach out; instead, she was falling.

,

"She's falling! Oxygen levels dropping!" He heard someone shout inside the room. He peeked in nonchalantly, wondering why he didn't just leave.

"Hey Mr. Big Spender, get in here! Come see how you save people now." Ares eyed the Director, whom he had met 30 minutes ago, while signing off the papers.

"Not interested." Funny how it was. Back in the old days, when you were sick, you died. Simple. Were they twisting it around? But then, if there was no fate, they were free to do whatever. He felt so old just thinking about all the evolutions and inventions these mortals came up with; cars, satellites…

But he couldn't finish his thoughts, because he was being pushed into the busy room by the wise guy.

And then he saw her.

Things were getting a bit blurry, but he knew. Amidst the tubes flying out and then put back in again, needles being pushed in her pale skin, he knew it was her, and knew that if the Director had shoved him in here just to watch her die again, he would have it coming his way. He pushed the nurses to get closer to her. Her hand felt cold.

"Mr. Louverdis, are you all right? Perhaps I shouldn't have—" Ares glared at the Director of the hospital. Wise guy.

"I will double the sponsorship if you save her. Save her right now."

* * *

.

A/N: Its 2.20AM. Me so sleepy. I apologize for any mistakes that there might be.I'm not awake right now. And sorry for taking so long. :) By the way, I hate thisediting system thingy. Or I'm just stupid.


	3. Summer Shudder

_All our secrets they're tailored trouble  
draped loose now around your hips  
your spotless instincts are valid  
we co-exist.  
Liar, Taking Back Sunday_

* * *

She recovered pretty fast, they said. She always did. Still, she wouldn't wake up fast enough for him this time. Stubborn pretty thing. It was day 6, and he stared down at the tiny city below him on his balcony. What floor was his house on? Messing up his hair, he breathed in the mystery of dawn; fresh and icy, mixed with smoke from the cigarette dangling from his fingers. Perhaps, when she woke up, they could share some drags together and talk about the old life? Somehow, he knew that couldn't happen so easily. Did she even remember? Why was she even in the hospital? Has she met others already? If she did, they would be pretty pissed that he convinced the hospital Director to release her into his custody. As he signed away yet another contract and the release form, he called him _insane_. Maybe. A couple thousand years could do that. 

………………………………

"You moron!" The slightly balding man winced at the barking sound from the other line; he turned his head away from his phone for a second.

"I swear it was the guy you've described countless times over." He blurted, and his tense shoulders relaxed at the sound of nothing, it had to mean that he was right. This was nothing to get fussy about. Everything was going planned.

"Fine then. And what about the girl? The blond one?"

"She came back a few times, demanding to know where she was. Of course we made sure no one told her. We're not idiots, plus, we have policies. One of them happens to be called privacy, and she's not related. In fact, no one is related to your damned _project_. The blondie hasn't been here for a few days now." He was impatiently tapping on his desk. He had a meeting to attend soon.

"I'm warning you. Don't get smart with me. That'll be all then."

_Click. _

"Asshole." He muttered with a slightly scrunched face. With that, he put the phone down, and headed out of his office. The words '_Marc Provost, Director, UA General Hospital_' danced back and forth as the glass door slowly came to a stop.

………………………………

Now he was getting nervous. He shifted very slightly on the edge of the bed, to face her. Sweeping some odd strands of her long hair off her face, he was, in small part, glad that she hadn't woken up yet. She said she couldn't be with him before, so what made him sure she would stay this time? He wished she couldn't remember. Maybe start fresh. New. And then what if they never have the same chemistry as before? No, even when she was all good, she somehow knew him. And he swore he knew that, if he lost everything, and if his memories have been wiped clean, the one thing he would remember was Xena. Right now, she was sleeping, and he didn't even know what he should do, or how he should explain. What does he explain when she wakes up? What does the pretty thing know?

Some guy he'd talked to on the street had said that, if a person was flawless, he would be more of a god than human. But gods had flaws too. He fell for a girl. And he couldn't get out. Does war love? How does war love? But he did, and it bothered him that it didn't really bother him so much. It was hard loving her, it still was, but he knew, and she knew that he wouldn't ever stop.

He thought her eyelids were fluttering subtly, but nothing else. Studying her a little more, he guessed she was around her mid twenties. She was thinner, a bit paler than he'd remembered, but still beautiful. It was like having a doll, a delicate replica. He just needed a fairy to wake her to life. _My beautiful Pinocchio_. He got up from the bed, and headed for the French doors. The clock on the wall indicated that it was well after one o'clock, and he needed to get ready for a conference. He was going to announce his retirement, resignation, whatever. He didn't want to waste time working when he could spend it with her.

When she heard the doors close, she let out a small sigh, but kept her eyes closed. Since when was she awake? She wasn't so sure herself. She couldn't breathe when his fingertips graced her face. She was scared she had blushed. She was glad that he left pretty soon thereafter, because her heart was racing. Certain that no one else was in the room, she slowly opened her eyes, letting it all in slowly. It wasn't night time; she could see small rays of light that barely seeped into the room, the majority blocked by black blinds.

Feeling a bit better alone, she sat herself up in the bed, and let her mind run. There wasn't much to run through, the only thing certain to her was him. She hadn't seen his face yet. She didn't need to see who it was; she already knew. The man she saw in her dreams, the one who haunted her. The strange sense of nostalgia, familiarity hung around the man, and it made her uneasy. The room seemed familiar too, the walls were painted grey, and it would have looked industrial if it weren't for the highly detailed traditional furniture. On the bedside table, she could see a thin, silver remote control for the equally thin television mounted on the wall opposite the bed. While running her fingers over the edge of the table, she tried to think of other things.

"Shit." With her dark brows knitted, she cursed. For a second she was shocked at her own voice, coarse, and clouded by the lack of usage. It was foreign, even to her; like everything else. She sighed again, this time in quiet frustration.

What was her name?

………………………………

Bea impatiently waited, occasionally sipping her triple venti latte, frequently glancing at her watch on her left wrist, and constantly biting her lips. Force of habit. She hated waiting. She considered herself to be a pretty patient individual, but not today. She couldn't wait another day. She had found out that Xena had been released a couple days ago, and she knew of nothing else. They wouldn't tell her. She remembered how freaked she'd been, even before she stepped into the room, because the blinds were open and the glass walls clearly showed no Xena. The thin blanket was folded up neatly in the centre of the bed, and most of the machines that used to monitor her, keep her stable, were gone. Her heart had dropped suddenly, thinking the dreaded. What if, she couldn't make another day? What if she was just lying on cold metal right now? What if she was just another white sheet covered corpse? Trying to even her breaths, she felt a hand on her shoulder; it was Heather, the young nurse who used to check on her friend.

"Don't worry, not dead. Released." She smiled faintly with pity, as if to offer some comfort.

"Oh. Thank God." Still facing the patient room, Gabrielle sighed in small relief, but soon after, panic was back in her mind. Who could have taken her? No one else had come to visit Xena after Bea accidentally discovered her best friend in the emergency room.

"Who?" Turning around abruptly to face Heather, she asked. And she realized why she looked apologetic.

"Sorry Bea, can't tell. Policy." And with that, Heather waved a little goodbye and left to her duties around the hospital wing.

………………………………

She was glad for a very short while, for the fact that she was now awake, but that had evaporated along with the calmness she seemed to retain for a small amount of time. Panic began to override her. Her body was fine now, she could move—though it was a bit stiff—it was just everything else. Strangely, she had found some comfort in knowing that she was awakened in someone's presence, a complete stranger. But then, who did she know in this world? She realized that she was breathing faster now, uncertainty fuelling the rush. What did she know? She tried to remember something, anything, which might answer her questions. All she could remember were the many hazy dreams she used to have. Now she wasn't sure if some of them could have been real. Thinking only blurred her mind, flooding it with the unknown. She decided to take a walk around, to distract herself. She stood up, and realized she was wearing a light black slip that came to her knees, and also that her hair reached her lower back. Taking cautious steps on the cold hardwood floor, she was glad this was  
reality; it was okay, so far.

Gabrielle felt like her finger was going to fall off from tapping it non-stop for hours. How long had she waited? She glanced at the empty paper cup beside her. She checked her phone again, and shoved it in her bag. The sky was beginning to tint red, it was pretty, but it didn't affect her today. She stood up, holding her slouchy bag. Then her phone rang. She fished for it in the bag, then flipped it open in a blink.

"Heather!" She hoped she didn't sound so desperate. Or mad. But she was angry and desperate.

"I'm really sorry Bea. Something happened. I'm sorry I can't explain further. I have to go. Bye." And with that, Heather ended the call. It wasn't like her. Not that Gabrielle knew her well, but she was sure this was out of character for her. Nevertheless, the day was a total waste, and as she slammed the phone shut, she couldn't help but head for the small shop beside the streets.

"Marlboro red. Please." She put the 10 dollar bill down.

The man on the other side of the Plexiglas slid the familiar pack to her, and she took it without hesitation, but asked for matches. She was going to smoke away two years of resistance and Nicotine patches. What a waste.

_...  
_  
"…Hello?" She decided to play it brave, but her voice didn't sound nearly as loud as she anticipated. _Dumb. _What was she doing? Slowly, she peeked out the doors, brushing some of her messy hair behind her ears. Walking slowly and cautiously, she headed towards the end of the hallway. She stopped short at the round mirror on the wall. Long and tousled black hair surrounded her face, and she found light blue eyes staring back at her. Like in her dreams, she was looking at herself, and she felt the need to break the gaze. Why would she be uncomfortable with herself?

Ares unlocked his car with electronic ease, and then slid into the driver's seat. Not minding the seatbelt, he drove out of the parking lot. Finally away from all the shocked and curious execs and their never ending questions, his posture began to relax a little, until his cell phone rang with a familiar chime. His eyes focused on the road, he didn't have the chance to see the screen for the caller id, but he already had a gut feeling of who it might be. He slid open the tiny phone anyways.

"Yeah."

"I ask you again. Are you out of your mind?" As he predicted, it was Chris. What was he so mad about anyway? The guy was in line for a ranking raise and a spiffy salary increase too. Not that he needed it. Maybe he was pretending to care for him.

"I told you about the once in a lifetime thing." Not too concerned, he eyed the lights and with his one free hand, turned the corner.

"Really. Can it really be bigger than our planned takeover next month? This could have catapulted you, us, the whole company way ahead of others. Into the world. Into the spotlight. " Ares stopped at the lights. Damn these streets for being so…short. There were too many lights. By the way that he sounded relatively calm now, Ares knew that Chris had already accepted his decision, and was just ranting out what little hint of denial he still had.

"Yes. You done?" 1, 2, 3… Green.

"No. But I've gotta go."

"Oh goody." Smirking silently, he turned again with his lone arm on the wheel.

"Think it over, man." And with that, Ares dumped the tiny gadget into the passenger seat.

He knew; he didn't need to think anything over. Although nothing was totally certain yet, he knew he had to show her. How he had changed. At least, he thought so. He wanted to tell her, that it was really hard. How he thought he was going to lose it after the first thousand. How he would immerse himself in different things, one by one, so he wouldn't have to think about her. A part of him wanted to be vulnerable, and be comforted by her. And then a part of him wanted it like before, when it was so hard to admit those words, those once strange and alien feelings! When he used to be high and mighty God of War; when he could pretend it didn't really mean anything. Just a fling, because he had a thing for tough chicks? _But it kinda hurt to see her do the same thing didn't it? How she pretended not to have the same feelings toward him? _Never up-front about it, it was there; she knew it then, and he still knew it now. It was now mixed with an air of regret, and newfound hope.

_Christ. She makes me human. _

………………………………

Aphrodite was feeling good. Clutching her Chanel purse, she handed the taxi driver some bills and got out of the cab. Wincing slightly at the intensified noise—she had asked politely if the windows could be rolled up in the cab—she greeted the doorman with a smile quickly. She remembered why she was feeling good: because she was seeing Ares. He was so busy these days with his _work _and she couldn't understand why a person, let alone a god, would need to drown himself in that much overload of work. Today maybe she could take him out for dinner or something.

"So, Jay, know what's new around Ares these days? Feel free to update me." She chimed, patting down her hair.

"Well, I'm not sure if I should be telling you this," Her eyes urged him on.

"but he's been with someone for a few days now, the lady looked really sick though, because he carried her in and she looked unconscious. She's probably still staying with him, seeing as I work too long!" He seemed to emphasize the last point while yelling at the security camera on the ceiling.

"and haven't seen her come out." He continued, albeit in a smaller voice.

"Thanks honey." Aphrodite smiled, and headed towards the elevators. Her smile dissipated though, when she got inside. Who could it be? He was never with a woman that long. There were only one nights, short and sweet. Plus, he wouldn't bring anyone to his apartment. _Strange. _She couldn't worry too much though, maybe it was a good thing. Yes. And although curious, having once been the Goddess of Love, she had enough sense left over that if the woman was indeed with Ares, it would not result in a good scene if she showed up to his place. She had had enough of the workaholic, somewhat sad Ares. Her lips turned into a small smile, and then she opened the elevator doors with a touch of a button. She would call Ares later and meet him somewhere else. Wasting time was nothing. This _was_ New York after all. She would shop for just a little while.

………………………………

She had finished eating the apple on the bar stool, and was searching again in the huge stainless steel fridge for something else. No luck. He only had Evian water bottles, beer, and some more apples. She was tired of apples, having eaten two of them already. _Who survives on these? _She took another look at the kitchen she was standing in, enormous in size and really clean, as if it was rarely used; it was every domestic girl's dream kitchen. She found herself shrugging at her silent thoughts.

_Oh well._ She was never really good at cooking.

Immediately, she froze, her hand in mid air, reaching for a drawer—she was still hungry, searching for more food—at the sudden recognition of her self. _How bizarre. _It was the second puzzle, she thought rather optimistically, to remembering. _This is a good thing, _she told herself, but couldn't really convince herself fully. Perhaps there was a reason why she couldn't remember in the first place, why she had been in a coma, breathing in and out of dreams she couldn't quite understand and comprehend.

_But I'd like to remember him._

This she was certain of. There had to be a reason why he had brought her here. Unbeknownst to him, she had woken in bouts of consciousness, she could hear, and smell—she dared not open her eyes yet—and realized while unintentionally eavesdropping short conversations between people, some including _him_. Why did you bring her here? What was she to Mr. Lou? Dazed and foggy, she would fall asleep again, but she desperately didn't want to when he would speak to her.

"_You should wake soon, you know. I really don't like waiting." _

She shook her head slightly. Thinking had cleared her hunger for a while, but she still couldn't shake off the weird feeling inside her. Ugly knots twisted here and there, she couldn't quite pinpoint it to what it was. The initial thought that had struck it was still there. Would she not like her past? What was she? She walked toward the TV Room, remembering that there was a huge balcony there, actually, more like a garden placed in the clouds, seeing as how high his place was. She slid the quiet glass doors, and let herself out. The green grass felt gentle on her barefoot, natural. Looking further, she realized that this _garden_ surrounded the whole apartment, and also saw that there was a second floor to his place. Connecting the staircase she saw earlier to this, she reminded herself to check it out later on. The strong winds felt cool on her face and body, and she leant comfortably against the glass and steel edges, overlooking the city.

Way down below, Ares got out of his car, and nodded to the doorman as he quickly walked into the almost hotel-like-feel lobby. His efficient steps wasted no time as he barely made it through the elevator.

_...  
_  
"And you have removed the watchmen like I told you to?" The man in the slick Armani suit behind the large mahogany desk spoke, and the other man across him shuddered slightly. He hoped he didn't notice.

"Of course, I would never—"

"All right then. Just watch her naturally, don't spy, don't remind her, and don't appear before them. No provocation." His voice didn't betray, carrying the forever cold tone.

"Yes. And I spoke with the hospital just now. Apparently the blond one has been trying to get infor—" He was cut off again, and he felt a slight film that was sweat on his forehead.

"I know. Good job on that. You can go now." And then man, forcing a little smile to stick on his face, let himself out the big office.

Alone in his rather humongous office, _Armani _rolled the cigar in his hand, almost playful, and quietly muttered something.

"Xena." Quiet, but full of hissing anger, fury fuming from his voice, like the smoke rising from the cigar. He crushed the cigar on his ashtray with a faint sneer.

………………………………

Panicking at first, seeing how she wasn't in his room; wasn't in his bed. Running across the penthouse with a rush, he searched for her. She wasn't in the movie room, wasn't in the music room, just an apple core on the kitchen island. He ran up the white spiral staircase, wondering, slightly tinted with panic, if she was somewhere up here. His body hot from running through his house, he had thrown his suit jacket somewhere, and now his tie floated down to the marble floor as he reached the second floor. Somehow, amidst all this, he didn't call her name once, because he was afraid. What if she remembered _everything? _That would be nice. But not if she remembered absolutely _everything. _What if she remembered how she used to hate him for his trying to trick her, use her, to get her back again? He didn't want her memories to shock her all at once. That would hurt. _You coward. _

He found her, looking down from the glass walls on the second floor. She was on the balcony, her back facing him. She looked frail, which was quite unusual, as he always remembered her being healthy; the I'll-kick-your-ass-if-you-don't-do-what-I-say kind of healthy. Lively and passionate. That's how she was. She was still so beautiful now, the wind whipping her black long hair everywhere, she glowed. He opened the door to the upper balcony, and at this sound, she slowly turned her head and looked up at him.

Their eyes met for a while, and stayed like that for some time. Her sapphire eyes pierced through his brown-grey ones, and he welcomed it. Her chest slightly heaved with an intake of a breath. _Nervous?_

"Hi." _Me too. _

He couldn't help but smile, and headed down the stairs to the garden.

* * *

A/N: Ares and Xena, acting like shy schoolkids! So yea. I took so bloody long. Sorry! I don' t personally like this chapter, it was so hard to write. I'm getting ready for first year of uni, and working full time (I hate working retail!), trying sewing, painting, guitar, and this, but never having enough time, because as I've mentioned, I work all day. Also starting out this fic without any direction was probably a no-no, because I had to squeeze my brain out thinking what's next! Also the fact that I've only watched a few episodes of Xena. Wow. So much could go wrong with this fic. I'm predicting that my characters could be a little off, I think I write as how I picture them to be in my head; I have a vague idea what they were like, but having no way of re watching the epis makes it hard. Most of the time, I remember Xenas and Areses and Gabrielles from other really great fics by super talented authors. Hahah, those are my excuses. Next chapter could take awhile too, because school's about to start! Thank you to people who left reviews. You make me so happy :) 

Did i mention that i really really hate the quickedit thing? it drives me fucking crazy. this is the eighth time i've had to re-edit and upload again. i need dividers and i dont want to use a fugly bold line (even if i wanted to, it doesn't even work right now).


	4. Happiness By the Kilowatt

_Not even the gods fight against necessity. _

Simonides (556 BC - 468 BC), from Plato, Dialogues, Protagoras

* * *

He was breathtaking. Quite literally. She found herself breathing irregularly, the cold air attacking her lungs. The distance between them disappearing, he stood still in front of her. She could not distract her eyes away, locked with his warm, brown eyes, and could do nothing except feel the wind race by them.

"Hi." He said, too softly, his voice getting lost in the wind, but she read his lips.

His hand slowly reached up, to gently brush the wild hair to the side, and rested on one of her cheeks. His hand comfortably cupped her slender face, and she was surprised it was warm. Despite the raging tinges of familiarity, she still couldn't fight all other things that were unfamiliar and strange. She was desperately confused.

He took her hand in his, and led her back inside the penthouse.

'''''''''''''''''''''

Looking out the window of his simple but luxurious hotel suite, he continued clipping his cigar until it was too short, then let it go from his fingers to fall on the carpet.

The last thing he wanted to do was waste time, but for this, he would just have to wait. He learned what impatience and ignorance could result in. His face put on a sneer at the thought of the past.

This time, he would let things unfold. If Xena had no memories of herself, he would not meddle in it. Perhaps it was for the better. He needed her, needed to use her. It was irritating to him that she would possess so much control and power, even in this life, even if she didn't know it. Right now, only he himself knew that she held the power to free his will. Last time, he made a mistake in that he chose the other girl instead of Xena; in that he chose a human form that later weakened him in the end.

No mistakes. His world would soon come.

'''''''''''''''''''''

Sitting down on the comfortable leather couch, she now realized how cold it was out on the balcony. She could feel warmth seeping in her cheeks. Wrapping a thin blanket around her frame, he sat down on the coffee table in front of her.

"Xena…you have no idea." Somehow, he thought he would be happy, but his face couldn't put on a smile.

So that's what her name was. She smiled a bit for him, although she was still confused. Everything inside her head was a mess; she sighed silently.

"I'm sorry. I don't really know you." She started, her eyes engaged in an apologetic tone.

"That's what I figured." He broke off his stare, glancing downward at their feet. She followed his gaze too, because she didn't know how to react.

"It's all right." He added, looking up again, with a lighter tone.

"I mean, I feel like I _do_ know you, from somewhere, but I don't really." Still downcast, she knew she didn't make sense, but she didn't know how else to explain.

His hand beneath her chin, he gently lifted her face to face him, and grinned.

"Hey. Don't worry about it."

Feeling a bit comforted, she blurted out a question.

"What's your name?"

"Ares."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''

"Hey." Gabrielle said as she was taking off her heels.

Getting no reply, she called out again. Walking to the bathroom, she quickly deposited her blazer into the laundry basket, and washed her hands with soap. She definitely didn't want him to find out that she'd smoked again, as he'd been so helpful in the process of quitting; dealing with her cranky moods and all.

She opened the door to the bedroom, and all of the day's frustrations and anger seemed to dissipate; she saw his sleeping form on the bed, and crept up to lie beside him. Coming home always felt so warm. She turned her head to stare at her man, and smiled. He looked so cute, with the tousled hair and long eyelashes, sometimes fluttering along with his unseen eye movements. Realizing she couldn't suppress a yawn, she partly blamed the sleeping man, because he looked so blissful in his sleep, and after a hectic day in the city, she figured she wanted that too.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Ares decided that he would order food, taking into account that Xena probably wasn't strong enough yet to endure the bustling streets and people of the crazy city. He was on the phone with a Chinese take out place, and as he was put on hold for "just a second" as the man had said, he glanced sideways to check on her. She was having fun with the television on the wall, having discovered the remote control. She was coughing lightly, and it concerned him a little bit.

"Okay sir that will be forty three dollars and twenty cents." The man across the phone said in English hinted with an undeniable Asian accent.

"All right. How 'bout I add another twenty plus tips if you pick up a cough syrup for me along the way?"

"I'm sorry sir. We have quite a delay tonight with the orders."

"That's all right. I'll just pick up the order too then." And with that, he put down the slim phone.

After walking to the living room, he smiled at her choice of channel as he leaned on the back of the black couch.

"Hey, didn't know you were _that_ hungry."

Xena looked his way, giving him a small mischievous look. Wrapping her legs close to her chest, her head rested on her knees, she could only say,

"They all look _so_ good!"

On the Food Network, a blond British fellow was cooking up some kind of a casual meal with all sorts of ingredients.

"Don't worry. We'll have food soon."

He wanted to hug her, never let go. A surge of a strange warm feeling was flooding his insides, and he found it strange but at the same time inviting. He would have never thought he could be spending time with Xena like this. So much like a normal couple. He could imagine Xena telling him with a pained and apologetic look on her face that he wasn't good for her, how they couldn't be together…

"Good." Xena said approvingly, and with the thought of food, she sighed contently. The commercials were ending soon, and as Jamie Oliver came on screen again, her eyes returned back to the flat television on the wall.

She didn't notice that Ares had gone to his bedroom to snatch a simple black coat until he came back to the living room, putting the coat on.

"Where are you going?" She asked, after coughing a bit.

"To pick up your food." His eyes furrowed, he thought he'd better get her some medicine soon.

"Oh."

"Yup. I'll be quick."

"Can I go too?"

"You sure? You sound sick. If you've caught a cold, it might get worse." He lightly objected.

"Mmm." He could pick up the slight discontent in her voice.

"Plus you've got no other clothing to wear than the thin slip you're wearing now. I'll take you out when you're cold has subsided. "

"All right then." She dismissed him, and suddenly, he smiled at the knowledge that she would have complete control now, if she had persisted on going, he would have let her; he didn't want her out of his sight.

As he walked towards the elevator, he heard her shout out.

"Were you such a worrier before too?"

Grinning, he pushed the silver button to close the door.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

"Xeeena." She said out loud. It surely felt like it was her name. Not foreign, with that tinge of familiarity she felt with Ares.

It dawned on her that she didn't even ask what their relationship was. Sure, remembered that particular dream where they were…

_I'll ask when he comes back. _

Then things started to pile up in her disgruntled mind. Was he to be trusted? Why was he being so kind to her?

How could she have been so naïve? But then…she had nowhere else to go. And she felt at ease with Ares, even if she'd only known him for a couple of hours. At least, it was only a couple of hours after her memory loss. She wondered how long they've known before this. Letting out a frustrated groan, she laid on the couch, pulling the blanket over her. She would think later. Her stomach growled quietly, and wished Ares would come back soon.

Just then, an intrusive sound filled the apartment, and Xena, startled, sat up immediately. It was a high trilling sound, and it continued with bouts of pauses. It wouldn't stop. She started looking for the source of the sound, and came to stop in the kitchen. Realizing it must be the black phone on the marble island, she stared at it for a while. Hesitating, she picked up the receiver.

"Hello, Xena." She almost dropped the plastic thing. _That voice!_ She felt the shivers through her spine, but she managed to collect herself.

"…Who is this?" She asked, although she knew that he was somewhere in her head, in the piles of memories that were locked up for now.

"Oh. You know me. How is the God of War?"

_God of War?_

"Who is this?" She asked again, with a little more force in her voice. Holding the phone with both of her hands, she looked around the huge penthouse, eyes darting side to side, because with his haunting voice, she felt as if he could be watching her, in close proximity.

"You're better than that Xena. I'm not there. But I hope to see you soon."

-Click.-

Trembling softly, she put down the phone, and tried to ease her breathing, but with difficulty. She suddenly felt very alone again, uncertainty gripping her entire body, and not letting go.

* * *

.

Hi. It's been almost a year! (nervous laugh). Anyways, nothing much to say except real life got in the way,,,blah blah that kind of excuse. And I find it hard to write because I started off not knowing what point of the series I caught off, this being a uber fic and all. Do I want the whole Eve and the twilights thing? And who do I want in the future? Herc? Alti? I want to write some angst but then I'd have to build up the plot. So expect build up. Oh. And big thankyous to everyone who left reviews! Reviews mean so much. To clarify something, in the last chapter, Xe and Ares weren't talking to each other in their heads, it's just Ares talking in his head. And also thank you to silent readers. Sorry for the short chapter. I don't even know if anyone's following my fic anymore?


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